


What's in a Smile?

by Fledhyris



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Date Sabotage, First Time, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledhyris/pseuds/Fledhyris
Summary: John accidentally says too much and gets Rodney thinking, but the whole 'don't ask, don't tell' attitude of the military and Rodney's fear of ridicule makes it hard for them to untangle their real intentions.Originally written & posted to LJ back in 2005.





	What's in a Smile?

Rodney is preparing for his date. He frets; he eats; he babbles.

"Relax. You have no trouble talking with me," says John.

"Yeah, but you're a guy. Guys are less complicated. I'm a guy; all I require is a smile and I'm yours." Rodney checks himself in the mirror once again, and John has to once again rearrange the tie.

"Not in my experience," John smiles, but he must have given something away.

"How would y... Oh." There's a pause, words seemingly blocked somewhere in Rodney's vocal chords.

John flees.

* * *

“So what I really want to know,” says Rodney later as he bursts through Sheppard’s door without so much as a knock, “is whether you were having me on, or you meant it; because it’s not as though I’m the only person you smile at. You’re a revoltingly cheerful person. And I already know about your Kirk complex, I just never figured it would extend to all the men around you, too!”

Sheppard puts his book down with an exaggerated gesture - _It’s late, I was reading, why are you interrupting me with this?_ \- Sighing, he says, “It was a joke, Rodney.”

“Oh don’t give me that! A joke? You sabotaged my _date!_” Rodney folds his arms, giving Sheppard the benefit of his most penetrating stare. The one that makes the other scientists fold like whipped cream. 

Sheppard just looks bemused, his forehead creasing in a frown. If Rodney didn’t know better, he’d swear the confusion was genuine.

“I…what? Why, what happened - and what did it have to do with me?”

Rodney snorts, tossing his head, and continues glaring - even though it doesn’t seem to be working - and starts tapping his foot. 

“You know perfectly well what you did, Colonel. You throw me that line, and you don’t expect me to think about it all night? While I’m supposed to be romancing my, let me remind you, _hot, female_ date, and it’s not as though they’re all queuing up to fall into my lap. What on earth possessed you to..? It’s not as though you could be jealous… Oh my God, it’s about Chaya, isn’t it? It’s payback time. I knew it!” Rodney slaps his forehead and staggers back rather dramatically against the door. “I just knew there’d be repercussions from that little episode some day! Well I think it’s remarkably petty of you, Col—"

Sheppard interrupts at this point, his expression dissolving from puzzled amusement to guilty comprehension.

“McKay, I didn’t sabotage your date! Well, not deliberately - I’m sorry about what I said, okay? It was - it was inappropriate, just a joke, like I said. I didn’t expect you to go away and ponder it all evening! And I am not trying to get back at you about Chaya. That’s all cool. She couldn’t stay, anyway.”

Rodney waves his hand peremptorily. “That is beside the point. The point is, that I... I... You knew how I felt, but you just carried on like a bull in a china shop until it all fell apart, and now that I find someone who actually considers me worth dating for a change, you get jealous and you say something totally ridiculous and yet arresting to derail my mind and ruin my chances of making a good impression.” He stops to draw breath, frowning, fingers taking up the nervous drumming of his foot.

Sheppard smiles lazily. It’s really more of a grin. He sits forward on the bed, hunched over his knees, arms dangling as he stares up at Rodney, his eyes dancing.

“Arresting?”

Actually, make that a smirk.

“Oh please. Don’t go stroking your ego, Colonel. Yes, of course it’s arresting, when the military commander - _American_ military commander - of the expedition suddenly seems to be hinting that he’s; that he has a, a _thing_ for another man.”

“Oh.” Sheppard’s face falls comically; the expression looks a little overdone to Rodney.

“So that was all you were thinking about? Just that I might ‘have a thing for another man’? Not that it was for you.”

Rodney snorts, but his hands clench involuntarily on his forearms, knuckles white against his jacket. He isn’t sure where Sheppard is going with this, isn’t sure anymore what the joke is, or whom it’s on, or even if there is any joke. He hates uncertainty, his inability to read other people, even though he understands Sheppard better than anyone; most of the time.

“Look,” he says, “seriously, Colonel - why are you doing this? Is it jealousy? Because I’m getting dates and you aren’t, despite your ridiculous efforts to emulate Kirk and more charm than any one man ought to possess? Or because maybe you’re right, maybe the patented Sheppard smile isn’t working, at least not on the right people.”

Oh. Oh, damn. Now Sheppard is definitely not smiling. Maybe that line was a bit below the belt, but he’s nervous and that always makes him snappish.

Sheppard rubs his hand wearily across his face. “Look, McKay,” he says tiredly, “it was just one little comment. I never meant - I didn’t mean you to take it badly, okay? Could we just forget about it now? It’s late.”

“I see.” More drumming of his fingers and foot. “So in fact, you weren’t trying to drop me a hint. You aren’t at all jealous of my dates.”

Sheppard’s hand drops and he blinks at Rodney, mouth set in a small, hard line.

“What do you want, Rodney?” he asks in a quiet, bitter sounding voice. “Do you want me to be jealous of you, or of your dates? Because seriously, this has gotten way out of hand, and right now I’m willing to take whichever option is the easiest way out. Unless you plan on being pissy with me for either, in which case, it looks like I’m screwed. Figuratively speaking.” He gives a short, sharp bark of laughter.

Rodney frowns. “Oh well, if that’s your idea of a come-on; ‘willing to take the easiest option?’ I’m so flattered. Maybe it’s not the smile after all, you just need to work on your chat-up lines.”

Sheppard just sighs, and looks at him.

“All right, all right, I get the hint," Rodney says. "Dropping the subject. I’m leaving now. So sorry to have misinterpreted your clumsy attempt at humour. And the date didn’t go that badly, just so you don’t feel any guilt.” He turns to leave, hand out to palm open the door.

There is a rustle of movement and Sheppard is suddenly there, right behind him, hand flat against the door and stopping Rodney from opening it; because these are his quarters, and anyway, when it comes to commanding Atlantis, Sheppard is the man with the ruling gene.

“Don’t go, Rodney,” and his voice is gruff, maybe even a little querulous.

Rodney squares his shoulders, tensing, standing perfectly still. It’s not as though he has any choice, with Sheppard holding the door.

“Maybe… maybe I was jealous, am, okay?” Sheppard continues in the same low, raw tone. “Maybe I wanted… Look, I understand, if you don’t - you know. That’s why I said it was a joke; I figured you’d prefer it that way. I don’t want…” He takes a deep breath. “Let’s not let this come between us, our friendship? I won’t harass you, I promise. You won’t even know it’s there. Just… tell me things are okay?”

He backs off slowly, and Rodney turns, arms stiff at his sides, stares into Sheppard’s face. He thinks for a few moments, frantically turning over each part of their conversation; the Colonel’s earlier ‘admission’ and his precipitate flight; the half-hopeful, half-panic stricken gaze now riveted to his own.

Not a joke, then. He might really, really mean it. Oh boy.

“How about,” Rodney says slowly, examining the words carefully before he commits them to his tongue, “we go back to square one? Pretend none of this conversation just happened. Look, you go back to your book, and I’ll leave the room, and burst in again, and we’ll take it from there. Give it a second chance. How does that sound?”

Sheppard lets out his breath in an explosive sigh, and his lips quirk in a tiny smile, although his eyes are wary.

“Sure thing, Rodney. Whatever you suggest,” he says softly, and goes back to the bed. He flings himself down, tucking his legs under him and picking up his book. “Well?” he grins, looking over at Rodney.

Rodney takes the hint, and opens the door. He steps outside, lets it close behind him, and stands there in the corridor, breathing hard. It’s now or never, he can’t back away from this, because he knows that if he leaves now, the Colonel will never bring it up again. And he doesn’t have the courage to face that flat, hazel gaze if he lets Sheppard down.

Drawing upon his resolve - and preparing a punitive oath against all flyboys should this turn out to be a bad idea - he palms the door open again and rushes through, stopping halfway across the room. Sheppard looks up from his book, one eyebrow raised, a small, interrogative smile on his face.

“Hey Rodney,” he drawls. “So how was your date?”

“I didn’t go through with it,” Rodney finally admits, and feels the heat burning up past his collar. Sheppard raises the other eyebrow, and carefully lays down his book.

“You didn’t? How come?”

Rodney searches his face, but there is no sign of mischief, no trace of derision in his tone; just open, friendly concern. He is acting well, just as though their previous exchange really had never taken place. Rodney clenches his fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Because I - because of what you said. About the smiling. I got to thinking about it, and I… I think maybe I haven’t given it a fair chance. You could try it, you know, just as an experiment… and I could be.”

“Could be what?” Sheppard’s expression is shuttered, a neutrality so composed, so arranged, that Rodney wonders how it ever takes anyone in. He ignores the mask, listening instead for the harmonies of tone, the truth behind the soft, careful words.

“Yours,” he answers, and lifts his arms, spreading them, then letting them drop; open, admitting, inviting. A gesture of trust and all barriers lowered.

Sheppard’s smile is as wide and bright as the sun on an Antarctic glacier. It lights up his eyes, his whole face, chasing away the shadowed lines of tension and control and making him look boyish.

“I’d like that,” John admits, lashes sweeping down as he lowers his gaze, suddenly shy. “Very much.”

And Rodney goes to him.


End file.
